


Last Choice

by majesticduxk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Dean, Comeplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Sam, M/M, Manhandling, Mild D/s, Possessive Sam, Restraint, Rimming, Size Kink, Spanking, Spooning, Submissive Dean, Top Sam, Wincest - Freeform, dean is the little spoon, dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/pseuds/majesticduxk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(from <a href="http://spn-otpkink.livejournal.com/4726.html?thread=351094#t351094">this prompt</a> from the spn_otpkink)</p><p>Dean makes stupid decisions. He always has. But he’s not going to anymore. Because he’s Sam’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> some readers consider that it needed a non con tag. I personally view it as dub-con (and tagged at it as such) but dub con/non con is quite a grey are and depends on the reader, so read at your own risk. IF YOU READ THIS YOU ARE CHOOSING TOO EVEN AFTER BEING WARNED

“What the fuck was that, Dean?”

Dean paused in the process of raising his beer to his lips. Sam sounded seriously pissed off. Not the cold, distant anger that passed for normal these days. More how it used to be. Hot. Intent. Personal. Dean took a long swig of his beer and sighed nostalgically. Those were the days. 

“I said, _Dean_ , What. The. Fuck. Was. That?”

Oh right. No need for nostalgia. Sam’s anger was much less enjoyable in the present. Dean took a calculatedly slow second swig of beer. 

“What? I normally have a beer after a hunt?”

Ah! There it was. A hint of bitchface 19 (don’t try and change the subject _Dean_ ) came and went. Dean watched in fascination as Sam’s features firmed into something harder, colder.

Sam’s mouth was a grim line. And the silence was a little uncomfortable. Dean caved. 

“What was what, Sam?”

“The throwing yourself in front of a corporeal spirit when you had no weapons.”

Oh.

That. 

Dean hadn’t been able to help himself. Sam was down, and this was ready to land a killing blow. In retrospect, Sam had just been adjusting his hold on his blade, but at the time, all he could see was some motherfucker about to hurt his little brother. Dean’s body had acted without his permission, practically levitating across the room. And he’d been lucky. A few bruises, a little scratch. Wouldn’t slow him down. Heck, he could hunt again tonight! But he wasn’t telling Sam that. They were strictly partners. Dean sucked thoughtfully on his beer. That might work…

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. It looked like you were down, so I moved in to give you more time. It’s what _partners_ do for each other.”

Dean may have gotten a little satisfaction from throwing that back at Sam. Maybe a little too much, as he didn’t even see Sam until the beer bottle was out of his hand and he was shoved face first into the wall. 

“…the fuck, Sam? What’s your problem?”

“My _problem_ Dean, is the way you are once again making decisions for me.” Sam was hissing in his ear. The hot breath tickling. Dean shook his head, and Sam gripped the back of his neck, holding him in place. “I don’t care if you want to hear this or not – you stop putting yourself in danger for me. You don’t need to look after me.” Sam huffed a little, biting out under his breath, “If anyone needs looking after, it’s you.”

Dean struggled in Sam’s grip. He didn’t want to have this conversation, and he definitely didn’t want to have it face first in the wall. Pushing back against Sam (when the fuck did he get so heavy?), Dean twisted and wriggled til his back was against the wall and he and Sam were face to face. Way too close, face to face. 

“Look after me? What the fuck? You can’t even look after yourself? You almost died today—“

“So did you Dean! And I was perfectly—“

“I don’t need your help, Sam, the way you don’t need mine.”

There. He said it. Sam doesn’t need him. He knew that. And it sucked, sure. After all, Sam was his world. But all he had ever wanted was for Sam to be happy. Alive and happy. And this? Them? It wasn’t making Sam happy. He’d know that for ages but, yeah, Dean had problems letting go of what was important to him. 

He doesn’t know what showed on his face, but the next thing he knew Sam had hoisted him over his shoulder. 

Dean let out a strangled cry. Mainly surprise, but a little pain as Sam’s (ridiculously bony) shoulder reopening the (very small) knife wound on his ribs. Sam slowed but didn’t stop. 

“Injured Dean? Funny that, ‘cos when I asked you earlier, you said you were fine. And you wouldn’t lie to me, would you Dean?”

Dean opened his mouth to an easy lie, but squeaked instead as Sam’s heavy hand came down on his ass. Before he had a chance to bitch his brother out, Sam was lowering him gently onto the bed. Dean immediately went to scrabble away, only to have Sam drop down to cover him. 

And Dean feels trapped.Is trapped. 

Of course he knew Sam was taller than him, but he’d never really appreciated how _much_ bigger he was. Sam’s thighs splayed outside his. Sam’s arms caged him in, and Sam’s hands pressed his own into the bed. Hell, even Sam’s cock was pushing… oh fuck no. 

“Christ Sam! What are you doing?” Dean tried bucking a bit. But Sam was an immovable object. 

Well, mainly immovable. 

The friction causing Dean’s cock to harden (and what the fuck self?) was causing Sam to get… even harder. Dean sent a panicked glance to Sam, who just looked back, eyes darkening with arousal. 

“Sam? Can you get off?”

“That’s the idea, Dean.”

Dean looked at his brother expectantly. But Sam didn’t move. Well, maybe there were slight movements but… Ah. Dean’s mind finally caught up. 

“Really, Sam? Really?”

Sam stayed silent. He just looked at Dean. Straight at Dean. Fuck, but it was uncomfortable. Having someone stare straight at your eyes was… yeah, uncomfortable. And Dean was out of practice, since hadn’t been around much. He felt his eyes flicker away. And for some stupid reason it felt like he lost. 

“What you’re doing. It’s not ok.”

Dean’s mouth opened, ready to defend himself, but Sam’s tongue was in there before he had a chance to say a word. 

Not that he really wanted to. Dean was taken off guard and Sam was a fucking amazing kisser (so, maybe demons had a thing or two to teach humanity). Sam’s tongue swept through Dean’s mouth as if it owned it. But Dean wasn’t one to lie back and let things happen. But it was like Sam could read his mind, as he pulled back and stared down and Dean’s kiss swollen and spit shiny lips. Dean felt light headed. Shit. He just kissed his brother. 

“So, you aren’t going to do it anymore.”

How the fuck could Sam just start the conversation up again? It wasn’t even a proper conversation. Too broad. What he was doing wasn’t ok? That could be anything. From not eating enough fruit, to giving an angel permission to enter Sam. But something about Sam’s expression made him think it wasn’t about those things. Sure, Sam was still pissed (really, really pissed) at the whole angelic possession thing, but this seemed like it was about something different. Dean took a stab in the dark. 

“I’m just doing my job, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyebrows disappeared behind his hair. “It’s not your job to get yourself killed.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “Hunters never live long, Sammy.”

Now Sam’s eyebrows snapped down. “Let me put it this way Dean. You aren’t going to do this anymore. No more stupid risks. No more throwing yourself in harms way when you don’t have a plan. I’m not going to put up with it anymore!”

Now Dean’s eyebrows shot up. 

“What? Not going to…? Sam, you can’t fucking tell me what I can and can’t do.” Fuck. Dean wished he was up and able to pace, not trapped beneath his brother. “What was it you said, Sam? Partners? _Hunting_ partners? That was what you wanted, and that was fucking fine. But _hunting partners_ \- and this means you Sam! – stay out of each other’s face! You don’t tell me what to fucking do! I’m not your pet! As long as I’m doing my job – which I _am_ …”

Dean trailed off. He wasn’t really sure what else he wanted to say. Well other than ‘fuck you’. But that didn’t seem right, given the circumstances and Sam’s darkening expression. 

“You don’t own me,” Dean blurted out. And then promptly wondered where that had come from. “Anyway, get off me Sam. You didn’t like that I saved your ass again, fine, fine. I hear you, ok?”

“Do you really think I don’t own you, Dean?”

Dean rolled his eyes. What the hell? But before he could speak, Sam steamrollered over him. Again. 

“You’ve been mine since I was born. Dad gave you to me.” Sam shouldn’t have enjoyed Dean’s flinch as much as he did. “You’re whole fucking life revolves around me. You raised me Dean. But kids grow up. _I_ grew up. I don’t need you to be a parent anymore. And I don’t need you to like that.”

Dean felt his heart drop. Sam didn’t need him anymore. Well, it wasn’t like he didn’t know that. But to have it flung in his face like that… He couldn’t just lie there and take it. With Sam’s body holding him captive he could only move his fingers and his head. He wasn’t ready to head but Sam, but his fingers curled, nails digging into the backs of Sam’s hands. 

Aside from a small grunt of pain, Sam gave no indication of pain. Bastard kept talking. 

“Things change. You looked after me for a long time. You think that gives you the right to make decisions about my life.”

A lecture? A fucking lecture. It made Dean feel all of about two feet tall. He closed his eyes. Rip out my heart, but tell me why it’s for my own good, Dean thought bitterly. But that was Sam all over. Always more than willing and able to explain things. Well fuck that. Dean looked defiantly at Sam. 

“I’m sorry I went behind your back Sam. I’m sorry I lied. And I’m sorry you don’t trust me. And do I deserve it? Yeah. Yeah I do. Because I’m not sorry that you’re alive. You’re my little brother Sammy – mine! And I’ll always look out for.” Dean willed Sam to hear the sincerity of his words. Sam just looked coldly back.

Dean felt his face fall. He’d never been good with words. He had so much he wanted to say, but no way to express it. With no way past this, he could think of only one resolution. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – change the past, but he could give Sam a gift for the futures. Dean girded his loins and looked Sam in the eye. 

“But I get it Sammy. I get it. I took away your choices. There’s nothing else to say about that. But,” and Dean’s next words came out in a rush. “Partners isn’t working. You know it. I know it. So maybe it’s time for us to part ways. You always wanted your apple pie life. Well, you can have it.”

Dean smiled painfully, adding softly, “With my blessing.”

\--------------------*-----------------

Dean closed his eyes. Any minute now Sam would stand, grab his bags and go. Dean didn’t need to see his brother walk away. Didn’t need to see the way he wouldn’t look back.

But Sam didn’t move. The heavy weight atop his body remained. 

Dean opened his eyes. 

“Uh… Sammy?”

Sam looked furious. 

“Every time you open your mouth you just prove how incapable you are of making decent fucking decisions.” Sam shook his head. “Am I angry with you? Of course I fucking am. You made choices for me you had no right making. But now? Now that it’s all too hard you want to drop me and leave? No Dean. It’s not happening like that. It’s not going to be that easy for you.”

Dean glared. “That’s not what I meant and you know it – “ 

“And you know what, Dean? I may not be yours anymore – not your little Sammy to help, to look after, to mother, to make fucking decisions for…” Sam’s look was venomous. “I may not be _yours_ , but you sure as hell are mine. And there’s no way you are walking out that door.”

Dean was exhausted by the whole thing. Sam was talking rubbish, and while Dean wanted nothing more than for Sam to give him some space, some things couldn’t be left unchallenged. 

“Me? Me??” Dean spat. “You’re the one who’s always left Sam. You’re the one who wanted out of hunting. And now? Now I’m giving you the chance – no guilt, no take backs. The world is out there, Sammy – arms wide open! I’m giving you want – what you’ve always wanted. So can the theatrics, _Samantha_.”

Dean was gathering himself to say more, but the image of Sam’s face bearing down on him brought him up short. Was Sam going to kiss him again? He couldn’t… didn’t… Dean turned his head, but Sam’s mouth continued down, latching on Dean’s collarbone. 

“Sam? What the? Ouch!” Sam sucked. Hard. Dean had had (and given) his share of hickies in his time. But there was nothing gentle or sexy about this. Nothing soft. It was hard and fast, the sole intent to mark. 

Sam maintained the pressure as he felt Dean struggle. He allowed his body to sink deeper into Dean, and he tightened his hold on his brothers’ wrists. Despite this, Dean bucked and wriggled. It wasn’t until Dean went lax that Sam let the pressure up. Tilting his head, he sought the mark. His eyes creased in satisfaction. It already stood out well against Dean’s freckled skin, and it would only darken. It was placed high, difficult to hide. 

“What the hell, Sam?” Dean’s voice was husky. 

“You weren’t listening Dean. Sometimes I forget how talking about things doesn’t work with you. That I need to show you.” Sam licked the mark, and he felt Dean shiver, his head automatically tipping back. Dean’s head might not understand, but his body did. 

“You’re mine Dean. You have been since you were four years old. I _left_ because if I didn’t I would have pushed you down and fucked you til you couldn’t think of anything else. Marked you and claimed you. So I left, Dean. Left you to do what you wanted to do. But what happened? Every time I set you free, you found me, brought me back. From Stanford. From the cage. Even from fucking death. So you see Dean, you chose me. _You chose me, Dean_. You don’t suddenly get to decide you don’t want to do it anymore. You don’t get to make that decision.”

Sam looked reflectively at Dean. Dean’s eyes were wide, his expression resembling that of a deer stuck in headlights. 

“I let you go, and you came back. So now you don’t get to choose anymore. You do what I say, when I say. You’re mine Dean. This time I’m going to make sure you remember it.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You can’t _own_ someone, Sam!”

Dean felt the need to make this very clear. The unspoken subtext (although it wasn’t really subtle enough to be subtext) was You Don’t Own Me. Although they both knew that wasn’t true. 

Still, outrage radiated from Deans eyes as Sam laughed and kissed him hard, not allowing any more annoying words to spill from his lips. The kiss is all tongue and teeth and dominance. Dean was prepared this time, but the tight line of his lips was no match for Sam’s onslaught, and a slight gasp is all Sam needed to slip his tongue in and claim Dean’s mouth, like he owned it already. His attempts at avoiding Sam’s lips were thwarted as, with humiliating ease, Sam grasped both of Dean’s wrists in one hand, pressing them down above his head. His other hand gripped Dean’s hair, holding Dean’s head in place. Sam released his lips long enough to suck another mark onto Dean’s collarbone, grip tightening painfully when Dean jerked his head away. 

Whose hands are that big? Dean thought somewhat hysterically. He’s not a small man. And he hates being out of control. But Sam overpowers him so easily. Dean pushed against Sam’s hand – hard. He didn’t budge. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I should be able to break out of this. It’s just Sam. He won’t hurt me. I won’t panic, he told himself, even as his heart raced. Fuck! How can Sam be so strong? 

Dean was begging without even realising it. Short little hiccups of ‘please’ and ‘stop’ and ‘let go’. He just needed some space to centre himself again. If Sam would just let him up… 

“Sammy?”

But Sam doesn’t. He kissed the pulse at the base of Dean’s throat, while gentle fingers ghosted across his cheek, catching tears he didn’t know he shed. 

“Shhhhh. It’s ok, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You’ve always been good at fooling everyone, including yourself, but you don’t have to put on that strong front anymore, Dean. I’ll take care of you. All you have to do is trust me. Trust me to look after you. I know it’s been hard. You’ve had to make some big decisions, with no one to help. But you don’t have to do that anymore. I’m here. I’m bigger than you, Dean.” Sam let his body press into Dean, feeling Dean’s body shake as their clothed cocks rub against each other. “And stronger than you.” Sam tightened his grip on Dean’s wrists, Dean’s hands moving ineffectually. “I can take care of us both. Let me look after you. Can you do that?”

And Dean shook his head. He can’t. Sam’s words are both arousing and confusing, and Dean doesn’t want to deal with it. He’d rather be sitting in a bar, drinking his weight in whiskey. Instead he’s underneath Sam, whose body is hot and hard and _here_.

“I’ll look after you. I’ll give you what you need, Dean. You won’t be doing anything silly and dangerous anymore. You just need to trust me.”

Sam kissed him again. Gently. Teasing and tasting and _flirting_. He licked his way in, giving a little groan of encouragement as Dean let his mouth fall open. 

And it felt so good. Too good. But this time actually Dean used his self-control. He didn’t fight. And he didn’t kiss back. He doesn’t want to encourage this. He manfully ignored his throbbing cock, and passively lay beneath his brother. Dean’s had enough bad fucks to know what sucks. So he stubbornly stayed still, hoping Sam would get bored and let him go. But it didn’t seem to faze Sam, who just kept at him, licking and sucking and tasting and taking. 

With a last, satisfied nip, Sam pulled back and surveyed his brother. Despite his studious lack of involvement, Dean’s eyes were glazed, his lips temptingly parted and swollen red. Dean’s cock was hard and throbbing against his. Dean was a gorgeous mess, and Sam just wanted to mess him up more. But somehow Dean, managed to pull himself together and glare at Sam. Sam shook his head. Dean had an amazing capacity to sass people.

“For fuck’s sake, Sam, where did you learn to kiss? You obviously need more practice.” Sam snorted. An obvious lie. “And did you have to grab my face like that? There’s going to be bruises! Don’t fucking mark me where anyone can see!”

Even as the words left his mouth, Dean wished he could take them back. That was _not_ what he meant to say. That was like… saying it was ok to mark him in less obvious places. Which it wasn’t. But he said it was. And that is what Sam would remember, what he said. Not what he meant. Because it suited him. With a growl of frustration, Dean closed his eyes. 

Whatever this weird thing was, happening on the bed right now, it had to stop. Because Dean liked it all a little too much. And the best way to get Sam to stop was to piss him off. Luckily, Dean had years of practice. 

“Is this because you’re still mad? This is your way of messing with me?”

\------

Sam scowled. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Things had been… difficult between them. Dean, for all his macho brashness, was delicate. He needed to be cared for. And Sam wanted to care for him – he loved his brother. But he’d needed _distance_ after he was healed. Distance which hurt Dean. And because he was angry, Sam let it go on too long. 

Dean’s risk taking was his subtle way of getting Sam’s attention. 

Well, Dean had all his attention now. 

“We do need to talk, Dean.” Sam watched Dean flinch. “About your bad decisions and how we’re going to deal with. But it’s ok now. It was my fault. I should have picked you up sooner, when I saw you needed me.” Dean looked ready to argue, so Sam quickly hushed him. “I think you’ve said more than enough for the moment. You may say ‘yes Sam’, ‘no Sam’, and you can beg me to fuck you. I don’t want to hear anything else. Is that clear?”

Dean scowled. Of course it’s fucking clear. There’s nothing wrong with his ears. And despite what Sam is implying, nothing wrong with his brain either. His mouth however…

“Let me up.”

It wasn’t like Sam was going to listen. Dean knew that. Sam was… proving some kind of point. Sam retaliated by sucking and biting along his jawline. 

“No.”

Okay. That was to the point.

“Not until I break you apart and put you back together again.”

Okay….

“Not until you’ve begged me for my cock, and I’ve fucked you until you can’t even remember your name.”

Sam smiled at him. “So, now you know the plans for the evening, I’m going to handcuff you. I want both my hands free, and I can’t trust you to not use yours. Oh, and you get one last choice Dean.”

Sam’s gaze was mesmerising. His voice low, and fuck if it doesn’t tickle that little spot inside that he’s tried to hide forever. The spot that melts when Sam takes over. 

“Do I gag you?”

What? What kind of a choice was that! Sam cut him off before he could respond. 

“Remember what I said? Yes, Sam. No, Sam. And begging for my cock. If you can stick to that, I’ll leave the gag off. Now. Are you going to be good for me?” 

Biting his lip, Dean nodded. He wouldn’t normally capitulate, but he feels… fuck! He doesn’t know how he feels. Fucking pathetic, really. He can’t get out from under his brother, who’s looming over him, covering him in a way that makes him feel small and uncertain. Dean’s not small, but underneath Sam? Yeah, he feels small. 

Sam relished Dean’s submission. Oh they’re not yet there, Dean doesn’t even realise what he’s done. But right now? Right now his mouthy big brother looked fragile and delicate, tear tracks gracing his face. And he felt oh so perfect underneath him. Sam just wanted to wrap Dean in his arms and never let go. He wanted to fill Dean up and make it so he can never think of anyone else ever again. He wanted Dean. All of him. He wanted to keep his brother safe – from the monsters out there, and most of all, from himself. 

\-------------------------------

“I know it’s hard Dean. You’re used to being in control, making the calls. But I think recent history has shown,” and despite his best intentions, Sam couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice, “that you don’t make good decisions. I’m not only talking about the angel.” Sam took a few deep breaths. Getting angry wasn’t going to help. Later, he’ll have Dean on his knees, begging for forgiveness. And Sam will forgive him. Eventually. But that’s for later. “On hunts too, you have a reckless disregard for your life.”

Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You sound like freaking Cas now.”

The silence crackled. Sam’s going to kiss him. Sam’s going to kiss him. This time, when Sam’s mouth came down, Dean welcomed him, his mouth opening. Maybe this was what he had been pushing for? He knew it was wrong, but he also knew it was goodbye. So why not? Why not take what he’d always wanted. 

Dean gave a small, voluptuous roll of the hips, sighing as his cock brushed Sam’s, smiling to himself at Sam’s indrawn breath. 

Seconds later Dean is unceremoniously flipped, Sam’s huge hands coming down on his ass one-two-three times, before he’s flipped back over, Sam’s body once more hard and unyielding on top of him. 

“Last chance Dean. Next time I gag you.”

\--

He’s not quite sure when it happened, but he’s naked with his hands cuffed in front of him. Sammy is a sly bastard…

“Uhh…”

It’s on the list of allowable sentences, but a glance over his shoulder at Sam showed he was ok with it. Dean relaxed minutely. He could work with that.

Sam ran his hands gently up and down Dean’s sides. Dean’s muscles flexed, and he hissed as rough fingers caught on the latest injury. Sam’s fingers slowed, rubbing over the frayed edges of the wound, pressing into the bruises. Dean shifted to get away, but Sam’s other arm wrapped around Dean’s middle, holding him place. 

“No more lying Dean. If you’re hurt, I want to know.”

Dean chose to not say anything. The disgruntled huff behind him was easy to ignore. Maybe that was the best way to approach this. Just ignore his oversized brother. Sam is a mattress. Dean closed his eyes and snuggled back. Not the most uncomfortable thing he’s ever leaned against. He let his head tip back, ignoring the sweet nothings whispered in his ear (it does no good believing it. He isn’t good. He isn’t Sam’s. This isn’t forever. And if Sam’s hard cock pressed up against his back is a little hard to ignore, that’s fine. It’s good practise, ignoring the elephant in the room.) Sam’s voice broke through Dean’s thoughts.

“But if I’m going to take good care of you,” Sam sounded suspiciously thoughtful, “I need an accurate starting point.”

Dean felt himself lifted and gently laid back on the bed, Sam fitting himself into Dean’s side. His eyes lazily scrolled over Dean’s body, before zeroing in on Dean’s hard nipples. Dean couldn’t stop the blush that spread over his face. 

Sam’s hand reached out and tweaked one hard nub. Dean couldn’t hide his gasp. 

“I think I’ll start here.” 

\---

He doesn’t know how long Sam’s been doing this. He started on Dean’s front licking, tasting, biting. He kissed every freckle on Dean’s body. Fingers tracing veins and eyes searching out the deepest part of his soul. Sam stopped _all the fucking time_ , looking Dean in the eye, asking “is this ok, Dean? Do you like this?” If Dean looked away, Sam would gently grasp his jaw. “No Dean. Look at me.”

When Dean gritted out a “yes, Sam”, Sam would just smile and continue on his journey, documenting everything about Dean’s body. Except his cock. His cock was uncharted territory because Sam – Sam the motherfucking bastard – wouldn’t touch his cock. It was pressed hard against his belly, leaking precome and Dean was begging Sam to touch it touch him let him come… 

He thought it would be easier when he was flipped over. And there were easier… aspects. He didn’t have to look at Sam’s face. And he didn’t have to talk. He couldn’t. Sam documented every mark, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes to… 

“You even have them here, Dean.”

Dean moaned in embarrassment as Sam spread his ass cheeks wide and stared. 

“Here,” followed by a kiss, “and here” and another “and here” until the kisses blended together and Sam’s tongue was buried in his ass, rendering him incapable of speech. 

Sam’s hand crept up Dean’s leg, cupping his balls before curling round Dean’s cock. Dean’s been leaking precome for so long Sam’s hand _glides_. Dean could only shudder and moan. 

“If you want to come Dean, beg.”

\--------------------------------

 

“Yes Sammy! Yes! Please… Please Sammy…”

It’s not the greatest begging. In fact it’s downright awful. But Sam can’t help but be moved by the passion. There’s still one thing missing. 

“That’s my good boy. And you are my good boy, aren’t you Dean? Mine?”

“Yes Sammy! Yes! Yours… please. I need to…”

“Say it clearly Dean.” Sam put a hint of sternness into his voice. He hoped Dean was as suggestible as he seemed. He idly slid his hand up Dean’s cock, thumbing the slit. 

“Say it Dean.”

“Yours, Sammy! I’m yours!”

Sam put his tongue and hand to good use. Dean came in seconds. 

\-------

Dean sobbed through his orgasm. He was sore and over sensitive, and Sam’s hand didn’t stop moving, not until his cock has twitched its final twitch. Now that the blood isn’t pounding in his ears, he can hear again. He wishes he couldn’t. 

“Such a good boy, Dean. So good for me. Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Dean quickly blinked away the tears that filled his eyes. It’s just a come down after one of the best orgasms of his life. That’s all. 

He must have zoned out again, because next thing he knew, he was on his side, Sam wrapped around him, one hand petting his side, the other oh so gently stroking his tired cock. 

“Back with me Dean?”

Sam sounded so loving. So gentle. Sam’s hand slowly left his cock, the come covered fingers traveling up his body before being pushed insistently at his mouth. Sam was both gentle and relentless. Dean turned his head away. 

“Open up Dean.”

It’s not a request. 

He could fight. He could ignore Sam, or bite him. But he doesn’t want to. He’s tired. Tired of fighting Sam. Tired of fighting himself. And if the choice is to have Sam, just for the night? Well, it wouldn’t be the worst one Dean’s made. 

Dean opened his mouth. 

\-------

Sam felt a flare of possessive satisfaction. He knew Dean just needed a firm hand and a short leash. He’s always had someone telling him what to do – from their father to angels and everything in between. And now Sam is the one holding that leash. He looks at his brother’s face. Dean’s eyelashes brush against his cheeks. His tongue circles Sam’s fingers, before swooping down, licking from the tip to the webbing. Their already cleaned of Dean’s come, but he sucks anyway. Sam’s cock throbs.

“I’m going to fuck you now Dean.”

Dean went to turn on his hands and knees. He’s seen porn. Gay porn… And Sammy’s always had a thing for his ass. And this way… this way…

The hand on his hip stopped him. 

“No.”

“Sammy?”

Sam looked Dean’s face. Dean looks relaxed and blissed out. And _he_ put that look there. He felt a dark satisfaction… but he wanted more. He wanted to see Deans eyes roll back as Sam fills him, see the way he swallows as he stretched further than he has ever been stretched… 

And Sam realised he doesn’t want to _fuck_ his brother (there’ll be plenty of time for that). He wants to _make love_ to him. To fill him tenderly and inexorably, make sure Dean will never forget this. Sam pulled Dean up, forward, til he straddled his lap.

“Sam –no! I…”

Sam lined himself up, one hand on his cock, the other on Dean’s hip. Deans was still sloppy and open, and looking straight into Dean’s eyes, Sam pulls Dean’s hips. He felt his cock stretching Dean, Dean’s expression a little pained. A lot sexy. And Sam doesn’t rush him. He allows Dean to take his time, dropping inch by inch. Until Dean’s ass rested on his lap. Sam lapped up every single change in Dean’s expression. He never looked away. He kept staring into Dean’s eyes. 

And it’s too much. Dean feels too much.

“Too much Sammy,” Dean whispers.

“You’re my good boy Dean, you can take it.” Sam groans. “You feel so good. So hot and tight.”

Dean flushed and turned, looking anywhere but at Sam, until Sam’s hand grabbed his chin. 

“No. Don’t turn away. Look at me Dean.”

He doesn’t want to. He really doesn’t want to. But once again, Sam isn’t asking. 

“Good boy. Give it all to me.”

\---------

Dean doesn’t know what Sam wants. If he knew, he would hold nothing back. But he has nothing to give. He’s empty. He opened his mouth to tell Sam this, but Sam’s mouth was already there, biting and licking and soothing and exciting against his. Dean can’t help but sigh into it. Relaxing more he feels himself sink further onto Sam. 

It’s still too much. 

Sam grabbed his face and looked straight into Dean’s eyes. “I love you Dean.”

Is Sam a fucking idiot? Perfect way to ruin the mood. Dean would run if he could. But he’s stuck on Sam’s cock, Sam’s arm wrapped around his waist, cradling him, the other smoothing back his hair. 

He feels safe. He feels scared. 

The obvious way to deal with this is to get Sam to come. A fucked out Sam should (hopefully) be a sleepy Sam. Dean tried to raise up, to fuck himself on Sam, but he had no traction. Effectively trapped on a cock. It’s embarrassing. And, to his shame, it’s fucking hot. His cock filled out again, just from having Sam in his ass. He can only imagine how good it’s going to feel when Sam actually moves… 

“Sammy! C’mon!”

Sam covered his chest with light kisses before Sam grabbing his head again, dragging his face down. Dean opens up eagerly, as Sam fucked his mouth with his tongue. Now if only Dean could get him to…

“Who do you belong to Dean?”

Dean pulled back and glared at Sam. It’s a stupid question. One which he already answered. (Oh god. He already said he belonged to Sam. But that wasn’t binding right? Anything said so you can get off isn’t binding). With a snap of his teeth, Dean refused to answer. 

Sam sighed. He had hoped Dean would be feeling a little more secure. But Dean wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t kick and scream getting to where he wanted to be. Sam was more than happy to help him get there. Sam would _enjoy_ helping him get there. Sam’s hand crept down to palm Dean’s cock.

“Sam! It’s too sore! Just fuck me!”

Sam’s only response is to anchor Dean even more firmly in place, teasing Dean’s cock into full hardness. Dean rants, and rails, grumbles and begs. But Sam won’t move until Dean states it – out loud. Sam needs to hear it. Dean needs to say it.

“Who do you belong to, Dean?”

It isn’t like he doesn’t want to say it. But…

“I’m scared.” It’s barely whispered, but Sam heard it, and drew him in closer. 

“You don’t have to worry Dean. I left you alone, but I never will again. Never,” Sam’s voice was fierce. Dean melted into his chest. “You know you’re mine Dean, you just need to remember it. Now,” Sam starts pulling on Dean’s sensitive cock, “Who do you belong to?”

“You. Sam.”

It’s a relief to say it. 

“Come. Come now, Dean.”

And he does. 

\---

It’s both softer and more intense than earlier. 

Distantly, Dean thought _that is what an out of body experience must be like_. One without reapers, which already made it infinitely more enjoyable to the previous ones. 

Distantly he felt Sam’s cock throb within him. 

Distantly he heard Sam groan before his mouth found Dean’s throat once more, adding another mark. 

Distantly, Dean realised he feels warm and happy. Safe. 

\----

Dean slowly came back down. 

He felt… good. Sore. Exhausted. Although it’s not like he really did anything. Sam did all the work. 

Dean was just the fucking idiot who just let his brother fuck him into unconsciousness. Who _cried_. That, more than a dick up his ass is cause for mortification. Dean curled in on himself and then groaned, feeling Sam’s come drip out of him. He made a face. That was just nasty. But if meant that he and Sam could be normal again, could be brothers again, well, it was good Sam got it out of his system. After all, what was one ass fucking in the scheme of things?

He glanced around the room. Although he had a vague memory of being told to stay put, Sam wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so he silently edged his way across pushing himself up on shaky arms. 

“Don’t get off the bed Dean.”

Dean couldn’t stop the way his whole body twists towards Sam. Who now stood in the doorway, hands planted firmly on hips. 

“Yeah, well I need to have a shower.”

Dean swung a leg off the bed, feeling a tiny thrill at his blatant disobedience. (And as if that wasn’t strange. Since when did he _obey_ Sam?)

Sam however, already had an arm around his waist, and was hauling him back onto the bed before his foot even touched the ground. 

“Honestly Dean, did you even hear what I‘ve been saying? What you _said_? You’re mine. Not just when we fuck. All the time. Right now you need to do what you’re told.”

\---

Sam felt the shudder that went through Dean’s body. Yeah, Dean needs this. Sam hauls him closer. 

“Legs apart.”

Dean blushed. Sam hid a grin in Dean’s shoulder, biting down for good measure. A sweet, blushing Dean. Sam needs more of that. 

“I can shower and clean myself, Sam.”

Sam just pulled Dean’s knee towards him, and started wiping him down. Dean whimpered a little, the cloth rough on his sensitive cock. 

“Hey! Watch it!”

Sam ignored him, and just continued cleaning him up. The washcloth came to rest between Dean’s ass cheeks. Dean tensed. 

Sam dropped the cloth, instead running his fingers along Dean’s crack, feeling his come slowly drip from his brothers’ well fucked hole. Sam pushed it back in. 

“I think you passed out while I was fucking you. I was going to clean you up properly, but I think my come filling you up is a good reminder.”

Sam threw the washer at the dresser, before manhandling Dean under the covers, pulling Dean’s back snug against his chest. Strong arms snaked around Dean’s chest and waist, Sam’s fingers brushing across his belly. 

“Uh… Sam?”

“Dean?”

Dean didn’t really want to ask. He just wanted Sam to read his mind and let him go to the other bed. He’d had as much arguing with Sam as he could take for one night. And he was feeling a little… delicate? Dean shook his head. He had just begged Sam to fuck him, told him that he was Sam’s, that he would listen to him… Dean really needed his own space and Sam was obviously settling in for the night. With Dean. 

“Uh. Can you let me go?”

There was that silence Dean had hoped to avoid. The one that said ‘I can’t believe you just said that’. 

“Can I what?”

“I just want to sleep in my bed tonight.” Dean hastily assured his brother. “Not going to sneak out, or anything.” Although maybe he would have a shower. Because Sam was wrong. There was no lesson in having come dripping out of you. 

Sam huffed a laugh. “You still don’t get it, Dean. You’re place is where I want you. And from now on, every night? That’s my bed. Unless I give you permission, you will spend every night in my bed. Right here, in my arms.” Sam’s arms tightened. Again. Dean wouldn’t be able to breathe if Sam kept this up. 

“But don’t worry Dean. I know you’re a slow learner.” Sam ignored Dean’s insulted squawk. “We’ll do this every day, until you remember.”

Sam kissed the side of Dean’s head. “I’ll look after you. You don’t have to worry about anything now.”

\----

Only Sam fell asleep quickly that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so I wrote these weeks apart, and there were some major stylistic differences. If anything stands out, please tell me so I can fix it!


End file.
